


We'll see which way the cat jumps.

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 02:03:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He liked it much better here than that last human's place. Oh, she was a nice enough sort, but she had another cat, a boring territorial beast in his opinion. It has been much too hard to settle in and so his former human had found him a new home with his current human, John. John had been pleased to meet him and he has been pleased to tolerate John, then happy enough to let himself be cuddled on occasion. Molly seemed relieved to send him here, citing John would do well with some companionship.</p><p>Though she soon became agitated when she'd learned the name his new human had given him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely vicariousVelvet's fault

"I should get out more, shouldn't I?"  The cat quite liked the long firm strokes of his human's hand. He nuzzled it.  
  
"I should try to, at least."  He flopped onto his side, exposing his belly.  His human rubbed it but his hand soon stilled. He looked up at his human who was looking back at him now and soon fingers were again twirling idly in his short curly black fur, he purred.  
  
He liked it much better here than that last human's place. Oh, she was a nice enough sort, but she had another cat, a boring territorial beast in his opinion. It has been much too hard to settle in and so his former human had found him a new home with his current human, John. John had been pleased to meet him and he has been pleased to tolerate John, then happy enough to let himself be cuddled on occasion. Molly seemed relieved to send him here, citing John would do well with some companionship.  
  
Though she soon became agitated when she'd learned the name his new human had given him.  
  
"I'm not -- telling you what to do or anything John, I mean..." Molly had said. "I almost named Tobey after -- after him...back when I had that likely very obvious crush but..." Sherlock's ear twitched. He liked his name; it was a name hardly fit for that brutish domestic shorthair.   
  
"It's not all that odd is it? Sort of like a memorial." His John had replied.  
  
"Yes, but..." Molly had stopped there. Sherlock had thought she seemed oddly nervous over something so trivial.  
  
John confided in him later. "I don't think it's too odd, you've taken to it after all... It's fitting I think." Sherlock had mewled in agreement, rubbing his head against John’s hand, now that he thought about it his human’s tone had seemed a bit sad.  
  
Back in the present he mewled again, not as happily. John had stopped petting him and the lack of touch had startled him from his thoughts.

  
"Sorry, I'm neglecting you aren't I?" said John, his hand going back to rubbing that one spot beneath Sherlock’s chin. He spoke in the same sort of tone as he would to another human, but Sherlock didn't think that was too odd.  It was a hundred times better than the baby voice that Molly had affected with him.   
  
"I should turn in early if I can't even pet you properly." John mused aloud, scratching behind a fuzzy ear. He stood, Sherlock rolled backwards onto the sofa. He rarely followed his human to bed, normally sleeping there in the living room.  
  
Tonight, Sherlock the cat was unhappy.  
  
His human, John, was increasingly melancholic lately, something to do with the human calendar from what he understood, and he didn't understand much of it. He gleaned it also had something to do with his human namesake.  
  
It was annoying. He wanted his nightly tummy rubs and he wanted them like clockwork.  
  
He stood and stretched to roam about the living room, rubbing his head against the coffee table. Not adequate. Next he squeezed underneath the reclining chair. There was a sock under it. Not his human's sock, and musty, old, probably belonging to another human then (maybe the one with his name, the one that left). There was a moment of pure panic before he found his way out from under there again, but he did, only to stop in his tracks as he caught sight of a glint of light on the floor.  
  
He pounced for it, but it was gone. Frustrated, his head darted about in search of the shiny. There again -- this time on the wall! He arched and made to spring but it was gone again. Confused, he jumped up on the couch for a higher vantage point to view the whole room. Where had it got to? He'd seen it!  
  
There was a small sound and he stood stalk still, ear twitching. He turned his head. There was a silhouette at the window, a faint one. The window silently slid open. A tall figure slipped into the room. Sherlock wasn't skittish, or easily trusting. He was, however, curious by nature. He stayed still and observed.  
  
The figure made a small motion with its hand, and a tiny light was emitted from it. The light. He twitched but fought against the urge to pounce. Perhaps it was a trap! The figure crept quietly through the living room, and to the kitchen. Sherlock followed. His eyes having trouble not zeroing in on the light beam.  
  
The figure stopped and crouched at his food cupboard. When he opened it he heard a displeased noise. "Cat food, why?" It whispered.  
  
Obviously because of me. Sherlock the cat bristled but still stayed hidden.  
  
The figure leaned into the cupboard and there was a small sound, like paper rustling. When he leaned back he had something in his hands.  Sherlock the cat didn't know why anyone would go into the food cupboard for anything other than food.  It wasn't proper. He let out a mewl of protest.  
  
The figure started and hit its head on the counter's edge, head whipping around to search through the darkness. "A cat? Really John." It whispered furiously. Sherlock the cat was insulted. He became louder.  
  
"Shhh kitty." The man (he could tell now from the voice) said even as he stood and darted for an escape, his tone a mix of sarcasm and exasperation. Sherlock followed and began to yowl. A thump upstairs startled them both for a second and then the man was rushing for the window, not even trying to be quiet Sherlock began again.  
  
He was out the window quick as a flash, this time the angle was better and Sherlock could see his face in the glow of the streetlamp. Familiar? He yowled again.  
  
"What's wrong with you tonight?"The living room light flicked on and his human came into the room, yawning. He was picked up. Sherlock squirmed out of his grasp and darted for the window.  John followed, half smiling as Sherlock tried to direct his attention to outside it.  
  
"Seen a lady cat somewhere out there?" John asked, glancing outside. Sherlock mewled a negative but his human was a little thick at times and probably didn't understand.  
  
There was no trace of the man outside the window though. He seemed to have vanished. How would he communicate his find to his human now?  
  
"You'll wake Mrs. Hudson if you keep on..." He picked him up and carried him to his room. Sherlock complained. He may get more tummy rubs now but he'd much rather them at the proper time.  
  
He had things to do.  
  
The nighttime visitor had disturbed his routine.  
  
He'd get even in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stood and prowled around a bit. There wasn't a trace of him except for the smell. No human artifacts, like empty crisp bags. Nothing to tell anther human he'd been here. Thankfully Sherlock wasn't one. He found a scent trail and he followed it into an alley between houses, and then across a narrow street to a broken down old building on the corner. Its door banged against its frame in the breeze, not completely on its hinges. It didn't give off the most pleasant atmosphere.
> 
> Sherlock rushed through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my wonderful Beta for this chapter (and the last, which has now been edited) kikislasha! You're a goddess, really <3

Sherlock awoke in a beam of sunlight. He was lying across his human's soft bed. He stretched, and then stilled, content.

"Were you mucking about in the cupboard last night?" John prodded his side. Sherlock growled.

He'd watched John read a lot of literature on his species. Sherlock had heard John explain this to the landlady human, 'Cats don't understand punishments, unless caught red handed' and he wouldn't know what he was being punished for after the fact. Sherlock didn't attempt to tell John he was less than correct, perfectly happy to just leave it at that. It still didn't stop John from chastising him over things, Sherlock usually didn’t mind that.

This morning though, he found he did mind. It hadn't been him, but rather the visitor last night. The one who looked an awful lot like the framed picture on the mantle his human had, and who probably smelled a lot like the musty sock under the reclining chair when unwashed. 

"Well, if you got into the food you must not have eaten much, so come on. I'll feed you now." John scooped him up and made his way to the kitchen.

When Sherlock had been fed he patiently waited until John finished his own breakfast. He was careful, he didn't follow John out of the kitchen when he went, patting Sherlock briefly on his way. He watched patiently, peeking out into the hallway.

It was time.

Just as the door was pulled open he darted after John, brushed past his leg and through it quick as a shot.

"Sherlock! Hey!" He heard John nearly trip on the stairs in a rush to follow but Mrs. Hudson was just coming in with some shopping. There was no stopping Sherlock as he made it through the front door and outside, darting unseen into a bush.

"Sherlock? Sherlock where are you?” His human was in near hysterics though. 

"Sherlock!" John yelled, finally making it through the door. He didn’t see him, he was safe.

"John, John dear." Mrs. Hudson had put down her groceries and put a hand on his shoulder.

"He hasn't been outside here before though, he could get lost...he could get run over."

"I know, I know. We'll look for him." Mrs. Hudson soothed. "But mind what you yell into the street dear, the reporters were here again just last week."

Sherlock had seen them, the reporters. They had seemed to be trying to get John to talk about his namesake, and they had upset him. Sherlock detested them. They seemed to take great delight in telling his human that he was wrong about something, some going as far as to call him 'unable to face reality' and 'mentally unsound' even.

"I don't mind what they said about me. But I'd rather be viewed as at least a bit credible, if only for... his sake." His human spoke softly.

"I'll put out a plate of sardines, he'll come ‘round. You'll see." Mrs. Hudson soothed.

"All right." John looked dejected. Sherlock almost felt bad as he watched John head towards the bus stop, staring at his feet, but he had an intruder to track. 

When the coast was clear Sherlock managed to climb past the window, up to the roof. He could smell the man there. He wondered if he spent much time up here. He paused awhile to lay in a sunbeam. Perhaps the man enjoyed sunbathing as well.

He stood and prowled around a bit. There wasn't a trace of him except for the smell. No human artifacts, like empty crisp bags. Nothing to tell anther human he'd been here. Thankfully Sherlock wasn't one. He found a scent trail and he followed it into an alley between houses, and then across a narrow street to a broken down old building on the corner. Its door banged against its frame in the breeze, not completely on its hinges. It didn't give off the most pleasant atmosphere.

Sherlock rushed through. 

He stood in the foyer listening, but not much could be heard save the banging of the door and so he began to creep through the main floor rooms. There wasn't much of interest, old furniture and broken baseboards. 

A mouse or three distracted him from his mission for a bit, but soon he was back at the stairs again. Half way up he heard it, low sound of talking. It was coming from one of the upstairs rooms. Sherlock quietly crept up to the door.

"You didn't tell me he'd gotten a cat." A man, that man, sniffed distastefully.

"Well, it really isn't much of your business is it...with the state you've left him in." Molly? His former human? 

Why would she be with him though? He had thought his former human also thought this man was lost.

"It's for his own good; it will be over soon in any case. Why did you not tell me about the cat? Had I known, I would have been better prepared to deal with its yowling. As it was, I was nearly discovered." He did not sound pleased. 

"I don't know why you couldn’t let me get those files for you in the daylight, I go over to visit enough. Besides you hadn't even told me you were doing that or perhaps I would have told you!"

"You're too likely to let something slip Molly, and if you had tried to get them he'd ask what you were doing."

"I can be sneaky!" She protested. "And I haven't given a thing away yet, even though I know I should. It's coming up on a year Sherlock!" Molly was getting heated.

"Still it was better that way, or would have been, had I known about the cat." He seemed to be ignoring her outburst. "Why have you never mentioned it?"

"I didn't think it was important." Molly seemed to have clamped down on her emotions.

"You're lying." The man said, after a second. "Why would you be lying? What about this cat did you not want me to know? There's something, isn't there."

"It's not important! I should be going." Sherlock didn't have time to escape as the door was flung open. Molly stood frozen as well as they caught sight of each other.

"Sherlock?" She said, obviously referring to him. 

"What is it?" The man in the room said, seemingly in answer.

Sherlock made to dart down the steps again but was not quick enough and so Molly managed to grab him, he squirmed halfheartedly. He'd never before managed to escape his former human's grip.

"Molly, you can't have every cat, just leave the strays be." The man had now also come out into the hallway: Tall, dark curly hair, scowl. Yes, it was him alright.

"This, this one has a collar Sherlock, and an address. I'll just take him back..." She rambled, trying to squeeze past.

"Hold on, is that...?" The man's hand shot out, grabbing the tags on his collar, turning them to look before reading them aloud. "Sherlock, 221B Baker Street."

"I, um..." Molly stuttered.

Sherlock glared at Sherlock who glared back.

"I've been replaced by a feline." 

Sherlock growled.

"I'll just take him back then." Molly said as she made her escape.


End file.
